It might have been a minute or ten they’ve been talking for, he can't tell. But the strangers part ways and suddenly someone's hovering in his peripheral vision and he looks up, blinking until he realizes he recognizes the guy as the one by the elevators. It takes him a moment longer for him to process what he's been asked.

"No--" He begins tiredly with a shake of his head. Combs his fingers through his hair. “No, s'fine. Ain’t nothin’ to apologize for.”

He has felt that overwhelming surge of relief and gratitude when reuniting with the people he cared for, some people he might have never met had the world not gone to shit. Felt it while soaking in their presence not knowing if each day that they lived to see would be the last time he’d see their faces and hear their voices and feel the light and warmth their existence brought to his own.

Family is hope. It’s pain and it's worry, it’s lying wide awake in the dark chill of pre-dawn and listening to sound of soft, slow breathing around you and remembering that you’re not alone in the world, even when the cold creeps inside you and grief gnaws on the edges of your mind, eating you away bit by bit. Family is everything. But some days, even that's not enough.